


I'm By Your Side...

by 1f_this_be_madness



Series: A Boy And His Angel - Feathers and Legs [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: And Adam's like 'hah yeah right that's hilarious get over here', Awkwardness, Cute, Dry Humor, Feelings, First Kiss, Gen, Holding Hands, I'm still a sap and I'm not sorry, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Michael doesn't know what to do with feelings, Michael is softness incarnate sshhh don't tell, Michael is very much in his own head, Michael-centric, Mostly because Mike is like 'aaah what if he doesn't need me anymore?', Nicknames, One Shot, POV Michael (Supernatural), Post 15x19, Post-Canon, Protective Adam Milligan, Protective Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: When times get rough...Adam and Michael return to Adam's home in the little life he's made for himself.And, well, for the angel if he decides that he wants to stay.
Relationships: Michael & Adam Milligan, Michael/Adam Milligan
Series: A Boy And His Angel - Feathers and Legs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030632
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	I'm By Your Side...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Huhsuabee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huhsuabee/gifts).



The ride back to Adam's residence is quiet, save for the soft strains of music from the radio. The purr of a vehicle engine is... comforting to Michael, although it could also be a comfort to see Adam beside him, to feel the glances of his eyes and the little smiles and touches of his hand. There is a brief moment when a car comes out of nowhere on the road and Michael lunges sideways as Adam's breath stops, and he finds himself with his fist entangled in Adam's clothes as the other's hand is clenched around his vessel's - his own knee - searing into the archangel is the touch, and he finds his chest aching until Adam looks at him with a light chuckle. 

"That was close," he says. "Be a bit of a letdown, though, if we got smashed up in a car crash after everything we've been through, huh?"

 _After everything we've been through. Yes, apart and together,_ Michael thinks. He doesn't say it aloud, and there's a flaring in his chest again, a clench, because Adam can no longer hear his thoughts - but glancing over and seeing the wrinkle in the young man's brows coupled with the wry twist to his mouth lessens the clenching feeling. It is as if Adam still knows what he is thinking, or can guess, somehow. 

Perhaps the archangel imagines the sadness in Adam's eyes as he squeezes Michael's knee once before giving it a brisk pat and letting go. 

They are silent again until Adam turns down another road and into the driveway of a building, a house - "We're here," he says. "Home sweet home."

There's a feeling, again; a minute expression there and gone on his countenance that frustrates Michael to miss; if he was still sharing Adam's head he would have caught the feeling and could have pondered it, or asked Adam questions later. In their darkest closest days, Adam would have told him.

Would he do so now?

Michael hesitates, and the moment is lost as Adam turns the key and shuts off his vehicle after stopping in front of this... house. He offers a little smile as he opens the door after unbuckling and hauls his bag out of the backseat in a single fluid movement. _He has done this many times,_ Michael thinks. _It is automatic for him._

And yet the pausing, shoulders shifting and head ducking for the briefest instant sends a bolt of difference, of something tenuous, unsure as Adam calls back to him softly

"Are you coming or staying, Feathers?"

***

As it would, in fact, be ludicrous to remain in the air (particularly since his power is at its lowest ebb and he hasn't a clear understanding of how, in fact, he has a body - he has yet to feel the presence of a vessel in his head with him. Apart from himself, the space is... empty) Michael squares his shoulders and follows behind as Adam waits beside the door before turning the key. He holds open the aperture for Michael, eyes tracking across him in a manner that is similar to the way the archangel feels. Not ill at ease, exactly, but it's a sort of off-kilter dance, if you will. 

Adam shrugs off his coat and hangs it near the door, picking up what seems to be a parcel. "I wash my scrubs once I come in," he says in conversation, as if he's been talking to Michael continually for all this time - which, even as time passes differently in the nothingness where Michael was, seems to have been the case. He nods sharply, because Adam seems to be waiting for something, and then with his eyebrows rising Adam adds "Do you need - uh, would you like some clothes? Sleeves or pants might be a little long, but uhm" he's coughing, running his hand over his hair and feeling the awkwardness in the air around them.

Michael wants to lessen it, to help. It feels as though there is a barrier between them, certainly the one of their separate entities, of muscle and bone, skin and sinew; yet there is also something... more, that is halting Adam here, causing his hands to curl and clutch his folded articles of clothing tightly. So

"Thank you," the angel steps closer, feeling a tightness in his vessel's - no, his own - throat and chest. He wants to wrap his arms and wings around Adam, suddenly; to enfold him and protect him as he had done before. Yet...does Adam even want that, now? Does he still need it? Does he require Michael's presence at all? He had spat out incensed words upon their meeting on the asphalt of the road, but is he truly bereft without the angel, or -

Suddenly warmth encroaches on the angel's thoughts. A hand, veins noticable and touch firm, curls around Michael's wrist and holds on. Clothes clutched to his own chest is Adam, standing breaths away, his hand around Michael's wrist, shifting to squeeze his arm. "Hey," his voice is wobbly. "You don't hafta freak, it's - it's okay. We're okay." There seems to be a sheen in Adam's eyes, more than the moisture that is inherently a part of them, and he is blinking as he tugs a little upon Michael's arm. As if he does not wish to loose his hold on him. "You don't have to - I mean, changing your clothes isn't a big deal; I just figured since you were, wherever you were..." He doesn't miss the way the archangel freezes, stiffens a little. Adam rubs his thumb over the skin just higher than Michael's wrist in a circle. "And showing up here, laying in the road and in a hospital," Adam lifts a shoulder. "I just figured it might be more comfortable, heh."

Forehead wrinkling a little as Michael cocks his head, "Yet we wore the same articles of clothing for an extended amount of time...," 

Adam lets out a huff of air, rolling his eyes with a small smile that Michael focuses on. "Fair enough, Feathers." He shrugs again, squeezes Michael's arm a final time and relinquishes him. "It's up to you. I've got a bunch of clean clothes, just lemme know."

Michael nods, that tightness in his throat constricting, and he does not intend to do anything, but it's as if his arm shoots out of its own accord and he catches hold of Adam's hand this time. "Adam -"

Their eyes meet and lock in the dimly lit space, and Michael tugs, feeling his muscles contract, his hand tightens around Adam's as he pulls him, them both, into each other's space. He watches as Adam's breath catches, as his eyebrows creep up in a physical representation of the dry humored manner his voice always exhibited, and Michael still cannot name what is coming over him as he lifts his other hand in the air and places it on Adam's cheek.

*** 

His palm hits flatly, and Adam goes still, waiting. For what, Michael is not certain. Experimentally he shifts his palm in a curve, sliding his thumb upward as his fingers brace, hold onto the skin of Adam's cheek. Adam blinks, eyelashes fluttering and Michael is tracing his lips with the pad of his thumb, marvelling at the closeness, the physical expression of feeling coupled with whatever it is that makes his breaths seem to hitch, makes him wrinkle his own brows as his heart beats faster, as he feels a humming in his blood.

He feels...whole, again, or almost. There is something yet that keeps the distance, something he cannot express yet still feels. His eyes take in the whole of Adam's face, the skin under his eyes that seems raised, and darker - appearing worn, somehow. The way Michael's own skin had looked when he manifested himself in Adam's form. He never wished any such exhaustion upon Adam. He never wanted - 

Something is beckoning, and Michael lets go of Adam's hand to bring his other to cup this face, this dear familiar and once more in-reach face, and he steps in, their bodies pressing together as he tilts his chin and, memories he's shared and seen informing him what to do, presses his lips to the skin beneath Adam's eyes. One and then the other.

Adam gasps, the softest sound imaginable as his lashes flutter once more. "Michael -" 

And as the angel shifts away again, hands ready to release Adam, lips parting as he prepares to speak, Adam's arm drops his clothes into a heap puddling upon the floor along with their feet, and his hand catches Michael's clothes instead, pulling him back to meet his lips with a press likening to a crash of Adam's own, his other hand taking the archangel by the waist and keeping them pressed together as he moves his fingers up from their grip on Michael's shirt to hold onto his neck. 

The kiss goes on, first needy and then soft, Adam teaching with the movement of his lips and shifts of his hands, and then after what seems like both seconds and years, they shift apart only slightly, enough for Michael to rest his forehead on Adam's own. "- or we could just do that," voice low, Adam's tone is rough as it is playful, but in his eyes affection glows in an expression certainly matched by Michael's, were the angel to bear witness to his own facial affect. Though less visible than Adam's, it is there. 

Just as he is here, and the clenching, the tightening within himself has dissipated. His mind has cleared as Adam gently tugs at him, hands going from his neck and waist to Michael's own hands, pulling him forward into the home. "C'mon, I'll make us some food," he says quietly. Michael stops him, tugging one hand free, and before Adam can do more than ask "What the -" he bends and picks up the now-crumpled clothing from the floor, offering the articles to Adam. "Ah yeah, after I change into these," his face splits into a grin that morphs into an expression that includes but is not limited to gratitude. "Thanks." 

Michael smiles back at him, nodding with much more also shining in his own eyes and expression.

"You are very welcome, Adam."

**Author's Note:**

> This is for you, Huhsuabee, and your love of Michael and Adam <3
> 
> I hope readers enjoy this and I'd love to hear your thoughts :)
> 
> Title is another lyric from "Bridge Over Troubled Water" by Paul Simon


End file.
